Mrs. Bev. What? Whom did he give them to?
Stu. A mistress.
Mrs. Bev. No; on my life he did not.
Stu. Himself confessed it, with curses on her avarice.
Mrs. Bev. I'll not believe it. He has no mistress—or if he has, why is it told to Me?
Stu. To guard you against insults. He told me, that to move you to compliance, he forged that letter, pretending I was ruined; ruined by Him too. The fraud succeeded; and what a trusting wife bestowed in pity, was lavished on a wanton.
Mrs. Bev. Then I am lost indeed; and my afflictions are too powerful for me. His follies I have borne without upbraiding, and saw the approach of poverty without a tear. My affections, my strong affections supported me through every trial.
Stu. Be patient, madam.
Mrs. Bev. Patient! The barbarous man! And does he think my tenderness of heart is his security for wounding it? But he shall find that injuries such as these, can arm my weakness for vengeance and redress.
Stu. Ha! then I may succeed. (Aside.) Redress is in your power.